


And They Call It Puppy Love

by dugindeep (hotsauce)



Category: CW Network RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-28
Updated: 2013-02-28
Packaged: 2017-12-03 21:57:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/703053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotsauce/pseuds/dugindeep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taking care of two adult dogs in their tiny apartment, Jared and Jensen just barely get by. Things get a little ~ruff when they find out they're going to be grandpappies. (But Jensen will never acknowledge that name)</p>
            </blockquote>





	And They Call It Puppy Love

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the final round of [J2 Ever After](http://j2-everafter.livejournal.com/), fashioned after the film _101 Dalmations_
> 
>  
> 
> [Art by the fabulous dephigravity!](http://dephigravity.livejournal.com/83348.html)

  


**Prologue**  


On a sunny morning in a green park in a pleasant corner of a modern metropolis, true love was found. 

It wasn’t boy meets girl. Not even boy meets boy. It was a whirl of leashes and human limbs to set the stage for dog meets dog.

She raced between trees with her human following, coffee cup held tightly in the man’s hands and perched ever so perfectly at his mouth even as he ran at an even clip to keep up.

He tugged his human behind, a gummie worm tucked tight between thin lips pursed with worry as the dog led without pause.

When the dust settled after the melee of excitable dogs spinning this way and that, the humans lay akimbo and the dogs rubbed cheeks and he licked at her neck, happily accepting her playful nips at his ears.

The humans looked at each other as one held out a coffee cup. “I think this is yours.”

The other human licked his lips with a furrowed brow after he plucked candy from his chin. “Sour apple?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” he blushed, pink high upon his sharp cheekbones.

The dogs hardly noticed, now plopping down in the grass with their hips side by side, eyes both trained on the humans struggling to sit up.

“I’m Jared,” one said.

“Jensen,” the other returned. Both humans turned to find their dogs watching them intently. “Um, so, which one is yours?”

“You can’t tell?” Jared laughed. Then he stopped and considered them - two striking Dalmatians with pristinely white coats accented with a perfect smattering of polka dot swirls.

The two pups stood at attention, accentuating the sleek lines of their backs, the strong columns of their necks, soulful eyes, and perfectly drawn mouths.

They were so identical that the humans were perplexed, with mouths agape and minds reeling.

“Okay,” Jared said carefully. “Maybe I see your trouble.”

“Sasha,” Jensen called excitedly and his girl stepped forward. She immediately bowed her head to his hand, and he grinned and rubbed behind her ears just the way she loved. “There you are, baby,” he cooed.

Jared smiled with bright, crooked teeth on display. “Maxwell,” Jared growled happily. “C’mere boy”

The humans sat beside one another and stroked their dogs to panting, leg-shaking joy until the canines were bored with the attention and flitted off to chase one other around a nearby tree.

Jensen glanced around and smiled when he saw a tall, lanky man in a page-boy cap manning a coffee cart. “I could use a new cup.”

Jared followed Jensen’s view and nodded as he stood. He extended a large hand. “Then let’s go.”

Once Jensen slipped his hand into Jared’s and popped up as Jared tugged, they both chuckled and smiled at one another. They stood a bit too close and walked even closer. Hands brushed and shoulders nudged until they had a pleasant cup of joe a piece and hid smiles behind each sip.

So maybe love was discovered in pairs that day. And perhaps they became a family in a short number of months. But what happened after is the real tale.

  


**Part One**  


Bright, morning sun streams through the only (yet large) window of their modest (tiny) bedroom, casting a warm spot along the foot of the bed. To avoid the heat, Jensen scoots towards the edge of his side of the queen bed that seems to barely fit him and Jared some nights. He tucks his legs up and tries to turn over, but he bumps into Sasha. She’s curled down and around herself, two legs tucked forward, two back, and her long white-dusty tail winding around her body. 

Her head rises briefly, one eye sliding open in confusion – or ire, who’s to say these days? – then drops her head back down to rest down against her knees.

Jensen frowns, softly pats her side, and shuffles forward to bump into Jared. “This bed is not big enough for the four of us.”

Jared _hrmphs_ and lifts his head, one eye sleepily blinking at him, then drops back to the pillow, face down.

Jensen frowns again, for an entirely different reason, and continues to move closer to Jared to avoid the sun still tickling his toes.

With a sigh, Jared flops onto his back and rips the comforter off so rough and fast that it drapes Maxwell entirely, but the dog hardly seems to care as he remains stretched out along Jared’s other side.

“It’s so hot,” Jared whines.

“You forgot to close to the shades.”

Jared lifts his head again, hair a flyaway mess and eyes still sleepily blinking open, to look at the wide window. He scowls and waves his hand in its direction. “Stupid sun.” He clenches his eyes shut as he burrows back against the mattress with his arm coming up to shield his face. “It’s too bright.”

“It’s morning,” Jensen points out.

“Close the shades.”

“I can’t.” Jensen frowns and glances over his shoulder again. “Sasha’s sleeping. You?”

Jared looks back and lets out a low whine. “Max is, too. At least I think he is?” He pulls up one corner of the comforter and winces, immediately letting the blanket drop. “Man, even his snores stink now.”

“Gotta get him back to the vet, too,” Jensen reminds Jared, because they’d discussed it more than enough this week. Regular visits to the veterinarian keep the dogs in good health, not to mention Jensen and Jared of sound mind. They’ve fallen behind lately, but no worries, Jensen is sure. Just need to reassert their schedule and the world will balance itself out. Sasha’s up going to the vet today and while there, they can plan for Max’s check-up.

“Maybe you can sneak around Sash?” Jared suggests.

Jensen frowns, for likely the millionth time this week. Another worry for today’s appointment is her recent weight gain and sudden change in behavior from a sweet, attentive girl into a lethargic pile of polka dots. “I don’t want to disrupt her.”

Jared stretches one leg down to the edge of the cool mattress and the frightful streak of hot light. He wiggles his toes at the border then slowly dips his foot further into the sunlight as he slinks down the mattress. Jensen watches between Jared’s silly dance off the bed and Sasha, who has now opened an eye to warily watch Jared as well. Once most of Jared has moved off the mattress, his torso quickly slides away with a tiny yelp followed by the thunk of him hitting the hardwood floor and bouncing against the wall that is far too close and borders in the tiny bedroom.

“Ow.”

Jensen smiles and reaches behind to pat Sasha’s head, fingers stroking over her ear. “What’re we going to do with your pops?”

Sasha snuffles and moves out of Jensen’s reach to sleep again.

“You okay, girl?” he asks, but doesn’t have the chance to look for an answer. Jared clamps his hands around Jensen’s ankles and tugs, yanking Jensen off the bed with an even more undignified yelp.

Jared easily swoops Jensen back up to his feet, arms rung around Jensen’s waist, and a wide, bright smile on his face. “That was easy.”

“As pie,” Jensen jokes, falling against Jared’s chest.

“Mmm, pie,” Jared just before kissing Jensen good morning. He runs his hands down Jensen’s hips and around to slide them in the back of Jensen’s boxers. “Know what else I have a taste for?”

Jensen rolls his eyes, but smiles at the idea. “Mmm, no. But why don’t you show me?”

“Gladly!” Jared whips Jensen’s underwear down with a flourish and gets to his knees, cramped against the wall. He strokes over Jensen’s thighs and licks the head of Jensen’s dick just as Jensen’s hands find their place within Jared’s bedhead, fussing up the strands worse than any night of fitful sleep.

Rocking on his feet, Jensen groans and combs through Jared’s hair all while Jared swallows him down and sucks his way back up to the tip. Jared moans around Jensen’s dick, the noise and motion of his tongue rumbling through Jensen’s skin. Jensen’s nerves quickly pay attention to every subtle shift and grip of Jared’s hands around his legs, and each audible suck of Jared’s enthusiastic mouth. Excitement swirls just beneath the surface and Jensen shallowly rolls his hips forward and back, meeting Jared’s easy rhythm that is perfect for a hazy, warm morning like this.

Jared pops off with a loud smack and Jensen groans dark and deep in his throat. Maxwell howls from beneath the comforter and Jensen flinches, but Jared isn’t disrupted in the least. He sucks his way down, up, and all the way down again to the base. Jensen is overly consumed with so much heat, it’s dying to get out, tearing through his skin.

Soon enough, Jensen feels the rush coming upon him and he tugs Jared’s hair with a soft _God, now_. Jared pulls back but continues mouthing at the head of Jensen’ dick, milking Jensen’s orgasm, and swallowing. He leans back with a satisfied smirk and not-so-subtle lick of his lips.

Jared isn’t exactly a proud man; he has engaged in dirty deeds for a low payoff like cheating at strip poker just to get Jensen down to his bare essentials (even when it’s just the two of them and Jensen insists they play something more appropriate for two players). Jared also lacks any thread of vanity, evidenced by the collection of paisley shirts in their closet. But right now, Jared’s ego is bursting at the seams and Jensen can’t deny the splendid way Jared’s gratification colors his cheeks and brings a particularly fetching shine to his eyes.

They’ve both broken into a bit of a sweat, with the sun slowly shifting closer to them during their activity and so Jensen twists his hand into the arm of Jared’s thin cotton tee and pulls, hauling Jared to his feet. “Top o’ the morning to me,” Jensen whispers before kissing Jared soundly. “I think we’re due for a shower now, what do you say?”

Jared smiles and leans down to bop their noses together. “I say that you have beautiful ideas.”

There is no world in which Jensen cannot return a happy grin to Jared’s pleased face. “Go get it started. I’ll be there in a second.”

With a wink and a pat to Jensen’s ass, Jared turns and hustles to the adjoining bathroom. Jensen chuckles, shakes his head, and steps out of his boxers. He shucks them towards the overflowing hamper in the opposite corner and pulls his shirt off, tossing it to join the rest of the mess of dirty laundry.

Just then, something wide and firm pokes at his bare backside. For the third time this morning, an unbecoming yelp is released in the tiny bedroom. Jensen whirls around to see Max sitting at attention, right there at the very sun-lit edge of the bed, and still completely covered by their cream-and-brown checkered blanket.

“Just like your father,” Jensen gripes, playfully swatting Max’s side.

Max lets out a short bark and his tail wags, flicking up an edge of the comforter.

“We’ll go for a walk after breakfast, how’s that?”

Max barks twice, surely once for the exercise and more heartily for the prospect of food. Jensen gives him a pat to his side and heads towards the bathroom. He stops when his eyes fall upon the still-sluggish Sasha. She remains in place where he’d found her upon waking. Only now, her wide, dark eyes are staring up at him while she still has her chin tucked down to her paws.

“Oh, baby,” Jensen coos. He steps closer and softly rubs over her jaw and ear. Each side gets a turn just like she’s loved since she was a tiny little pup. “We’ll find out what’s wrong with you soon enough.”

Sasha lets out a pitiful whine.

Following a round of breakfast (or two in Jared’s case; Jensen winked and pretended to ignore it, even when it meant Jared finishing the last of the oatmeal) and a quick trot through their neighborhood (well, not so quick in poor Sasha’s instance), Jensen fills the dogs’ water and food bowls and tidies up what’s left of the mess of breakfast. 

He washes his hands and pats the excess water over his pants as he walks to the snug living room, but stops in the hallway to Sasha curled up in the lone piece of seated furniture in the room – a worn-down loveseat Jared had found at an estate sale – with Max squeezed into the little bit of space left. Max’s head rests of Sasha’s hip, and he lets out a low growl when Jensen steps closer.

Jensen frowns at them both, especially Sasha, who just blinks in return.

“Is our lovely patient ready?” Jared asks as he enters the room.

Jensen motions at the dogs. “I think Max is being a bit protective here.”

Jared moves forward with an easy, “Ahh, no, the big boy’s just –”

Max growls, lifting his head and baring the edges of his canines.

“Okay,” Jared says firmly. “I think this calls for a sneaky treat.”

Jensen nods and sets his hand out in a fist as he and Jared count to three for rock, paper, scissors. He slips paper and Jared expertly scissors Jensen’s hand with a proud smile. “Yeah, yeah,” Jensen mumbles, waving Jared off to the kitchen.

In seconds, there’s the well-known shake of Wishbones in their box and Max scoots up to sit on his haunches, eyes and ears alert to the sound. Another handful of shakes and Max dashes off the couch, skitters across the wooden floor, and slides into the kitchen where Jared and a crunchy treat awaits him.

Jensen gives Sasha a sad smile and crouches down to her. “Okay, sweetheart, we’ll go nice and easy.”

When he scoops her up, heaving her weight into his arms, she hardly puts up a fight. Which is both a thankful thing and a sad surprise.

“And you haven’t changed her diet at all?” Sasha’s vet, the lovely Dr. Palicki, asks as she soothes her palms over Sasha’s head and back. Sasha seems relaxed under the doctor’s touches as she’s stretched out on the examination table. 

“No, we haven’t,” Jared answers when Jensen remains focused on rubbing his fingers beneath Sasha’s jaw.

“No injuries? Vomiting? Changes in bowels?”

“No, nothing we’ve noticed.”

Jensen sighs at the idea that something could have been happening for all this time, and neither he nor Jared noticed. True, they’ve both been particularly busy between Jensen holing himself up in the second bedroom-turned-home-studio to crank out a long list of jingles good and bad – all gone unpurchased – and Jared’s added hours at the bakery to bring in some extra dough (both of the bread and dollar variety).

Dr. Paclicki brings her stethoscope into place around her neck and eyes Jensen and Jared each. “Nothing at all?”

“We’ve both been very busy,” Jensen admits.

She smiles nonetheless, comforting them with her soft and easy voice. “No worries. I just need to ask. We’ll get Sasha up to snuff in no time.” Dr. Palicki sets the stethoscope to Sasha’s neck, moving it down along her side, her chest, and finally to her belly. She makes a thoughtful noise and listens longer then removes her stethoscope and rings it around her neck.

“What is it?” Jensen asks.

Dr. Palicki hums with a strange face and presses fingers against Sasha’s belly, moving them in different directions and places until Sasha grumbles. She strokes Sasha’s belly with a soft hush. She gives Jared and Jensen an odd smile when she suggests, “I think we should run some tests on her.”

“Don’t look so excited,” Jensen mumbles.

“It’s very exciting.” Dr. Palicki grins and Jensen’s not feeling the same as his stomach turns with a tingle of worry. “You’re going to be granddaddies!”

Jensen’s vision narrows down to Sasha’s face and he swears he can read guilt coming over her, but he’s likely just imagining things. Just like he’s imagining that the world is now spinning and he’s meeting the floor much sooner than he would expect his failing legs to allow.

Back at the apartment, Jared plops down to the loveseat and squeezes in beside Jensen. “Come here, you big baby.” 

Jensen scowls with a low, “ _You’re_ a big baby.” He allows Jared to pull him close, still flinching when Jared sets a towel-wrapped clump of ice to his forehead. He’s not about to admit it, but the ice immediately lessens the Jensen’s headache.

“Actually,” Jared says, adjusting the ice pack to cover the bump on Jensen’s head, “I’m an excited grandpappy.”

“I’m not going by that name.”

“Why are you so against this? It’s the circle of life. Our beautiful pups are having pups of their own.”

“Exactly,” Jensen argues. “Don’t you think they’re a little too young for this?” It’s mostly meant as a joke, but Jensen feels it hit closer to home. “ _We’re_ a little too young for this.”

Jared slips his arm over Jensen’s shoulders to tuck him in even closer. “You’ll be the most handsome grandpa at the dog park.”

Jensen smiles briefly, immediately filled with the real grief of the situation. “Jared, how can we really do this? We barely have room for us four in this place. And I know you’re working yourself too hard to keep us above water.”

“We’ll get a new place, in a new neighborhood that we can afford and –”

“And you’ll be too far from the bakery, making everything harder on us. I barely see you as it is.”

Jared kisses Jensen’s cheek. “I miss you, too. But we’ll find a way.”

“In a month?” Jensen asks, semi-hopeful yet still concerned. To add to their trouble, Dr. Palicki had reported that Sasha was approximately halfway through her pregnancy and she spotted six pups from her physical exam and the x-ray.

“You don’t worry about that,” Jared says with a quick nudge. “I’m a problem solver. I solve problems.”

Jensen sighs, not comforted in the slightest. He drops his head back to the loveseat and whimpers with a fresh wave of pain.

  


**Part Two**  


“Look, I don’t like doing this any more than you like it,” Jensen explains carefully. “I’m not comfortable, you’re not comfortable, so let’s just acknowledge that it’s a medical issue that must be done, okay?” 

Sasha stares at him and Jensen attempts an easy smile and shrug. He doubts she buys it. She does eventually lie down on the bed and barely fusses as Jensen moves forward to take her temperature.

“Oh, my God! What’re you doing to her?” Jared harps when he enters the bedroom.

“I have to take her temperature,” Jensen replies, wincing as he tries to insert the thermometer – rectally.

Jared sits next to Sasha, pets her back, and pointedly does not look at what Jensen is doing. “That’s just wrong.”

“So is your dog knocking her up, but you don’t see me complaining.”

Max growls from the corner where he’s been watching. Jensen isn’t sure if the dog is upset with Jensen’s comment or in how this thermometer works.

“Keeping Max off the bed while Sasha gets the queen treatment isn’t you complaining?” Jared asks with attitude.

Jensen ignores Jared and focuses on the temperature ritual. He’s thankful when Jared leans in close to Sasha, nuzzling her jaw with pets and kisses. It’s a great sight when Sasha licks him back and happily pants at his attention. Jensen’s been waiting to see his beautiful, lively, loving girl return to form.

“Okay, we’re done,” he announces as he checks the thermometer then goes quiet. “Ninety-nine. Her temperature dropped below a hundred. Dr. Palicki said when it drops-”

“Finally!” Jared crows and joyfully gives Sasha more love and attention. “Our baby’s gonna have some babies!”

Jensen looks up to Jared with a small smile; Jared’s excitement is contagious, and Jensen’s finally elated at the whole idea. Twenty-four hours from now, they’re going to have a full litter of beautiful white-polka-dotted puppies to lavish with attention.

Max barks as he stands and Sasha shifts up to sit and watch him. She barks, and he does again, too. He pants heavily until he charges the bed, runs across Jensen’s back, and settles down next to Sasha, licking over her neck and jaw.

“Hey, Maxy,” Jared murmurs, “You’re gonna be a daddy.”

Max barks excitedly, three times in a row, and returns his attention on Sasha, as if Jensen and Jared aren’t even there anymore.

“Maybe we should give them some alone time?” Jensen suggests.

Jared nods in agreement. “Maybe we could use some, too.”

They go to the living room and sit in the loveseat pressed up against each other, Jensen’s head on Jared’s shoulder, Jared’s hand resting on Jensen’s knee. In the easy silence, their breathing can be heard, followed by the deep, raspy snoring of Max in the next room. Jensen has spent the last two years trying to be patient with the boy’s snoring; right now, it’s a sweet notion that Maxwell is staying with Sasha for her last few hours before delivery.

“There was a guy at the bakery the other day,” Jared says quietly, almost awkward. “He’d overheard me telling Sandy about Sasha and the babies. He was interested in adopting them.”

Jensen looks to Jared and smiles. “Jared, that’s amazing news. Why didn’t you mention it before?”

Jared shrugs and glances around the room. “I don’t know. I wasn’t sure if we were that serious about that.”

“We agreed it would be the most logical thing.”

“Maybe _I_ wasn’t that serious about it.” Jared shrugs again, now with a mixture of guilt and sadness. “I’m not sure it’s that great of a thing to take the puppies away from their mommy and daddy.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Jensen is immediately injected with shame. Still, he tries, “If this guy wants to take them all, at least they’ll be together?”

With a nod, Jared admits, “It would be better than splitting them up. It’s been hard to find six different families to take them.”

“It can’t hurt to meet him. See if he’ll be good for them and them for him?”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Jared says with more confidence.

Jensen smiles at Jared’s uplifted spirit. “Of course I am. I’m always right.”

Jared nudges his nose to Jensen’s cheek and kisses him.

If Jensen thought taking Sasha’s temperate was a questionable action, watching her birth her first pup is definitely _wrong, wrong, wrong_. 

“My poor girl,” he whimpers.

He’s wracked with guilt. Even with Max at her side, Jensen can’t bear to witness Sasha in this position. Literally. 

Jared had said they should be prepared for the event and cued up a 20-part YouTube series of a Boxer giving birth to a whole litter, and Jensen still hasn’t recovered. 

Jensen is aware that Sasha stretches on her side, prepared to birth, and there is shuffling of her feet on the blanket laid out on the living room floor, but he has to keep his eyes clenched tight while he hums his latest jingle to drown out the noise.

“How’s she doing?” Jared asks from Jensen’s side.

“Good, good, she’s great,” Jensen asks, turning away from Sasha to look at Jared. 

“And how are you doing?”

“Freaking terrified.”

Jared grins and Jensen resists punching him for enjoying this pain. “Just like I knew you would be,” he says with a rub to Jensen’s back. “Oh, look, the first one’s coming!”

Jensen closes his eyes, turns his head, and hums another jingle, one for the local pizza place that boasts the thickest deep dish one could ever dream of. 

“Are you – Are you singing about sausage?” Jared asks. 

“I can’t look, Jared,” Jensen whines. “I just can’t. There are some things a man should never see about his baby.”

“Jensen, I told you,” Jared says calmly. “It’s the circle of life and she is – oh my God _it’s coming out of her_!” he squeals. “Can you believe this?”

“It’s beautiful, Jared,” he replies, eyes again closed. “Now what?”

“She’s cleaning up the sac and-”

Jensen’s stomach clenches. “Not - that’s not – no!”

“And another one is coming! His head is pushing through her-”

“Jared!” Jensen shouts. “Stop describing it. Just, what do _we_ do now?”

“Oh, right, I’ll get more towels,” and a moment later, Jensen is left alone with the birthing noises. 

In Jared’s absence, the sounds turn into something softer, a light hum, a tiny snarl, and Jensen chances a look at Sasha as she finishes cleaning the second pup up. At this point, the teeny puppies are just masses of white fur, not a spot to be seen. Jensen’s heart immediately melts, watching Sasha bathe her babies. Once she shifts to birth another, Jensen reaches for the first two and cradles them, one in each arm. 

“Jared! They’re here!” he shouts and hears a muffled yelp and things crashing from the bedroom closet. 

“One minute,” Jared moans from the other side of the wall.

From there on, the pups pop out like a Blackjack dealer in Vegas, an efficiency that Jensen can’t keep up with. His arms are easily filled with half a dozen and Sasha is still going, so Jensen lowers himself beside her, murmuring encouragement as he lavishes the new pups with attention.

Soon enough, his lap is full with soft, warm puppies that nuzzle the bare skin of his arms and legs, one snuffles its way up the inside of Jensen’s shorts, nibbling at his thigh.

“No! Bad dog!” he admonishes then quickly changes tactics, feeling awful for yelling so soon after birth. He adjusts a few of the puppies in his arm so he can shift to the side so his lap is more comfortably fit with one, two, three, four … _oh, dear_ , he thinks. There are seven pups seated between his legs while another four squirm in his arms. 

“Jared!” he yells and Max howls as well. “Where are the towels?”

“Coming!” Jared pants as he rushes into the room to dump the terry cloth at Jensen’s feet. He stares at Jensen, at Jensen’s arms then his legs, at Sasha still going, and then back to Jensen. “We need more towels,” he says firmly then races out of the room.

Before Jared can return, Jensen counts another four births, then together they witness another five births. 

With confusion, wonder, and maybe even fright in his voice, Jared begins to count. “Two, four, six, eight-”

“Twenty.” Jensen looks up at Jared, arms and lap still packed with little dalmatians. “Jared, we have twenty puppies.”

“Plus two,” he says flatly. “We have twenty to dogs to feed.”

“That’s a lot of mouths.”

Jared opens his mouth to reply. but promptly goes slack and falls to the ground as he passes out.

Jensen frowns at Jared and thinks of moving to help him, but he’s sure Jared will wake in a matter of seconds; it’s how Jensen was when he first found out Sasha would have just six pups. 

Looking down at the puckered face tucked close to his left elbow, eyes and mouth closed even while releasing tiny whimpers, Jensen smiles fondly. “Your grandpappy is so dramatic.”

For the first morning in a long run of mornings together, Jensen is up with Jared as the sun rises. Based on the scruff filling in his cheeks and the fuss of his hair, Jared is likely just as tired as Jensen feels. 

Jared is used to pre-dawn wake-ups to open the bakery. Jensen, however, is not, and needs to wake up soon if he plans to drive himself across town for a job interview with a regular, ole talk-around-the-water-cooler office. Jared is putting in more than his fair share at the bakery, but twenty new mouths to feed is at least nineteen too many, and they need to increase their income to afford all the pounds of puppy chow that should be lining their pantry.

Jensen also needs coffee, stat, but he figures he’ll grab it on the road.

By routine, Jensen flings his tie into place and ties the knot at his throat. Jared lazily smacks his lips, as if fighting the notion of being awake, even if he still smiles at Jensen. 

“You look so handsome, darlin’,” Jared drawls.

Jensen takes a deep breath and stands tall, blinking sleep away. “Would you hire me?”

“Definitely.” Jared leans in for a kiss then pats Jensen’s back as he turns to walk out of the room. “But that’s ‘cause I like my men half-clothed.”

It dawns on Jensen that he hasn’t bothered to put a shirt on, despite the perfectly knotted tie. “Dangit!” he shouts and rushes into the closet. He pulls hangers this way and that until he finds a white collared shirt and tugs it off the hanger. It’s heavier than he’d expected as one sleeve sags close to the ground. Jensen peeks inside the collar then notices a few spots moving inside the sleeve. He sighs, reaches inside, and grabs a pup by the scruff to pull it out of the shirt.

“Oh, come on,” Jensen whines.

“What now?” Jared asks from the kitchen.

“I found,” and Jensen counts the spots on the pup’s stomach before hugging it to his chest and joining Jared by the fridge. “Lazy Eight hiding out in my shirt.”

“He’s not lazy,” Jared admonishes.

“I know he’s not,” Jensen says. He holds the boy at an angle for Jared to see the stomach. “But his eighth belly spot is.”

Jared taps a finger to seven solid spots then rubs at the eighth, which is barely a shade of grey. “Well, ain’t that something. Lazy Eight it is.” 

“It’s better than Crazy Eight.” Jensen hands the puppy over to Jared and heads back to the bedroom for his shirt, which is now a sleeping mat for Harry and Tom. Dick is currently licking Jensen’s dress shoe, which could be mostly okay so long as he doesn’t start using teeth. 

Jensen shuffles the two boys off his shirt and nudges Dick away from his shoes on his way out of the room. 

Jared reaches for a cabinet when Jensen rejoins him, asking, “Do you have time for coffee?” 

The answer is delayed when Jared pulls the cabinet door open to reveal two pups hiding out among the cereal boxes. The puffed pops box is crumbled at the bottom corner and the pups are caught red-handed eating Jared’s favorite frosted meal.

Jared turns to Jensen. “We need a bigger place.”

“I’m trying,” Jensen replies tiredly as he buttons his shirt up. 

“I know you are.” Jared frowns and kisses Jensen’s nose. “I’m not saying you’re not.”

“You don’t have to say it. I know what it looks like, with you gone all day and me sitting here watching two dozen dogs.”

“Jensen, I don’t _like_ leaving you here to do that.”

Jensen heaves a breath for about the tenth time this morning and pastes on a smile, even when he’s certain it’s pathetic and weak. “I don’t like you working so much at the bakery either. I want to see you once in a while.”

“We’ll get there,” Jared insists. He rubs his palms over Jensen’s shoulders, down his arms, and squeezes Jensen’s hands. “Starting with today. You’re gonna ace that interview.”

Laughing nervously, Jensen bumps his forehead to Jared’s. “Right. Jingleman to data entry.”

“It’s all about the keys, baby.”

  


**Part Three**  


Sadly, Jensen is informed that it’s more about letters and numbers than black and white keys. He also finds out that he’s not well-adept to retail, customer service, or executive assistance. The local high school is less picky in his abilities to clean, but Jensen’s not ready to hang it all up for a mop and pail. 

Over the next few months, he spends his days walking their twenty dogs in shifts. Not only because managing twenty different leashes requires patience Jensen doesn’t have much of lately, but because Anastasia doesn’t care much for Harry and Tom’s excitable natures. Learning the hard way, Jensen had spent weeks fussing down Sixth Street as the high-maintenance girl barked and growled her displeasure. 

Jensen likes to blame her attitude on Jared giving her such an ostentatious name. Jared then blames Jensen for dumbing down half the litter with more generic names like Steve, Eddie, Otis, and Lazy Eight (who Jensen thinks Jared secretly adores most). 

(As Jensen remembers the day the puppies were born, Jared had tossed out a half dozen names and after that, they both ran out of steam and just went with the next list that ran from Jensen’s mouth.)

Either way, the real issue at play these days is Jensen’s inability to bring home a paycheck and Jared’s new schedule to overwork himself to the point of absence and exhaustion by putting in far too many hours at the bakery. Jared’s gone before dawn and home long after dusk, leaving Jensen to feel like an abandoned house wife.

One Thursday afternoon, Jensen comes back from walk number two to find Jared face down on their bed, snores echoing in the tiny space.

A quick thrill runs through Jensen’s system at seeing Jared in the daytime; he’s not sure when last it happened, to be honest. Once Jensen detangles the leashes of Anastasia, Cinnamon, Cocoa, Ginger, and Ted, he joins Jared on the bed and immediately kisses up Jared’s neck. 

Jared groggily shifts to his side and barely blinks awake, but Jensen doesn’t care; he straddles Jared’s lap and lavishes his face in kisses once more, mumbling _miss you_ and _so happy you’re home_ among other random declarations. Jared seems disoriented when his hands come up to Jensen’s shoulders and he tries to reply, but Jensen’s tongue is down his throat, so it’s a bit difficult, one could imagine.

Just as Jensen rocks his hips against Jared’s, there’s a tiny groan, and Jensen smiles as he does it again. Except now the response is a yip and a groan followed by a growl, and moments later, the bed is full of twenty puppies who, based on their loud chatter and excessive jumping around, don’t seem to appreciate what Jensen is doing to Jared.

“Why are they so angry?” Jensen asks as he quickly sits up. 

Jared sits up as well and they keep their arms wrapped around one another as if they need to save themselves from their pups. “I don’t know, man, but they’re angry about something.”

The pups join in the center of the mattress where Jensen and Jared had been. “Angry about us or the bed?”

Jared shrugs as he looks at Jensen. “I don’t know, but that’s freaking weird.”

Seconds later, Sasha and Max jump onto the bed and curl themselves around the huddle of their children. Jensen and Jared each make a soft noise of recognition, and Jensen has to admit it’s admirable to watch. “I think we just lost our bed.”

“We lost it a long time ago,” Jared replies with a soft laugh.

Jensen lightly shakes Jared’s shoulders and grins at him. “So what are you doing here anyway?”

Returning the grin, Jared lightly jostles Jensen right back. “I live here, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“I almost did. I’d forgotten what you looked like when you’re awake,” he points out in a leading tone, gently pulling at the skin around Jared’s eyes. Then he tugs at Jared’s lower lip before shaping it back into a wide-open smile. “Or when you’re capable of speech or even smiling.”

“I know, I know,” Jared replies softly, still smiling, though sadly now. “I’ve missed you and all these crazy guys, too.”

“Okay, no more guilt trips,” Jensen says firmly. “You are home, and we’re going to do normal things together. Like walk the dogs and eat dinner at the same table and have sex. Lots of that last one.”

Jared chuckles and squeezes Jensen’s ass. “I would really love all of those things, but I was just napping before I have to work.”

Jensen’s face promptly drops. “You’re going back to work?”

“No, and that’s the good news! Remember Mrs. Anderson who sends all her bridge club ladies to the bakery? She has those Doberman pinchers?”

Jensen scowls. “You mean the retched woman down on Eighth Street who cackles as her monsters taunt our babies.”

Jared makes a face. “Well, no, I mean, I guess. I don’t know that she does that … but anyway!” he says abruptly, voice going bright. Mrs. Anderson hired me to cater her ladies’ bridge tournament tomorrow morning. So I’m baking here.”

In a flash, Jensen’s stomach growls at the thought of the luscious smells that will soon be filling their tiny apartment. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah. I mean, she’s responsible for nearly half my regular business after sending all her friends to the shop. I figure I can at least repay her with a few hundred cupcakes.”

“How big is this bridge club?” Jensen asks warily, because now he’s concerned about how Jared will actually get this done.

“Big enough that we’ll finally catch up on a few bills,” Jared replies, a tiny bit of hope to soften Jensen’s skepticism.

He didn’t need the hope, because Jensen is immediately excited to receive a few less red-stamped letters. “Do you need an assistant?”

That is how Jensen and Jared end up in a kitchen with every surface taken by flour, cream, sugar, and all the other fixings that Jensen doesn’t know well, but mixes as Jared instructs. It’s a simple task to man the Kitchen Aid mixer and keep the batter going; Jensen had once thought the machine was far too big a splurge, but he’s appreciating it now. Jared’s role, however, is more of _artiste_ as he perfectly swirls colored frosting over the tops of each cupcake and cuts out hundreds of fondant shapes – cherries for the Mon Cherie Cordial, stars for the Lemon Burst, and hearts for the Double Chocolate Sweetheart. 

Jensen thinks back on the day Jared had tested out the double chocolate treat, and how Jensen’s mind had floated off to heavenly places as the white chocolate frosting melted on his tongue just moments before the moist milk chocolate cake and filling came through. 

As Jared mixes up another batch of the white chocolate frosting, Jensen leans against his back and kisses his shoulder. “I ever tell you that one’s my favorite.”

Jared smiles from over his shoulder, dips a finger into the frosting, and brings it up for Jensen to lick off. Which Jensen does with great style, tongue sweeping over Jared’s finger, curling around the knuckles, and slipping off with a tiny pop. It’s better this time, richer and smoother, and then there’s a salty note of Jared’s own skin. 

Jensen hums in satisfaction then lets out a quite undignified squawk when Jared spins, grabs him by the back of his thighs, and _lifts_ and _carries_ Jensen to the counter. Bowls and cupcake pans rattle around, but Jensen feels only slightly bad because he has Jared’s hands up the back of his shirt and most of Jared’s body pressed up against his.

It’s been a while. An incredibly long while. And not even just because they’re men who are incredible in tune with one another and used to have an exceptionally healthy sex life that meant they were constantly late to, like, everything. It’s just been a really long fucking time for any couple, and Jensen isn’t about to waste it.

They scrabble to get even closer at this angle, with all the kitchen supplies in their way. They moan when it works and whine when it doesn’t. Jared finally gets Jensen’s jeans open and a hand on his dick, and Jensen groans and fusses around on the counter for stability as his ass is hanging off the edge just so Jared can line their dicks up together and stroke with his giant hand.

At the front of his mind is the touch of Jared’s callouses, now slick with cream and frosting on them. He’s also too aware of the hot breaths Jared is panting against his mouth as they are both too consumed by heat and want to kiss properly. He knows that after all this time apart, it won’t take long for either of them, and neither seem interested in slowing down to do this proper. There’s something delightfully crazy about fucking Jared’s hand in the kitchen, right in the middle of their shared baking. 

And yet, Jensen is distantly conscious of his hands running along the cupboards to his left. In an attempt to hold on for dear life, just as his orgasm is about to hit him, he knows that he knocks over a canister of the puppy treats Jared had concocted a few weeks ago. With a quick glance to the side, Jensen sees that chunks of peanut butter bones fall into the mixer, a batch of crumbles dusting the top, and Jensen tells himself to toss that batch out once they’re done.

Instead of filing that thought away in the long-term memory bank, Jensen feels his skin tighten up all over and Jared’s hand jerks faster as his pants come out sharper. Jensen wraps his hand around Jared’s and they fuck together, pressing their lips and tongues together, sharing the same hot air. Moments later, Jared breaks, shooting over Jensen’s hand and pressing his forehead to Jensen’s. 

Jared’s hand goes slack but Jensen keeps moving it with his own, loving the feel of Jared’s long hand on him. That thought alone is enough to tip him over, and he orgasms with a shocked shout. 

“Well now,” Jared mumbles a few minutes later, “That was—”

“Surprising,” Jensen finishes.

“I was going to say good.” 

Jensen smiles. “Yes, yours was better.”

Jared drops a wet kiss to Jensen’s cheek then stretches with a satisfied sigh. Jensen does as well, but they both pout when they realize the mess they’ve made of one another and the kitchen counters. 

Unhappy and now boneless, they get to cleaning up before going back to work.

Jensen wakes to a shout. Not his own, which feels more surprising than actually being woken up from a heavenly dream that included chocolate fountains and cherries raining from the sky. 

He’s reminded of the late hours he and Jared spent finishing up the 500 cupcakes, all perfectly dressed in playful colors and fondant toppers. It’s now eight in the morning and the sun is blaring through the window, but Jensen is prepared to go right back to sleep when there is another shout.

The sleepy fog melts away and Jensen now recognizes Jared’s bellowing from the kitchen. Jensen stumbles out of bed, tripping over blankets then narrowly missing Cinnamon and Brownie huddled together near the doorway. 

When he makes it to the kitchen, he doesn’t have to ask what the matter is or what he can do to fix it. He knows the first answer, but the second is absolutely out of his hands because he can clearly see that the kitchen has been obliterated to a hazard of cupcake crumbles and a smattering of frosted paw prints, yet has no clue how he and Jared could replace more than half of the cupcakes in the two hours before Jared must make the delivery.

“I can’t – they done – the cakes – what – how?” Jared stutters out, and Jensen’s brain is working about as well right now.

Along with any smart thought, Jensen’s stomach has dropped down into his toes. He is certain he is about as wrecked as Jared is at this moment, and not just for sympathy, or because Jensen contributed to the hard work as well. But because this is just one more setback to their livelihood, another reason their litter of twenty has become a greater burden than either of them had ever imagined.

There’s a soft whimper behind them and Jensen turns to see Sasha nudging Eddie front and center, like he’s on trial. Eddie cowers to the ground and just barely makes eye contact before flattening himself to the carpet and covering his face with one polka-dotted paw.

Glancing over his shoulder, Jensen finds Jared appearing absolutely broken, so he sweeps Eddie up and heads back to the bedroom, patting Sasha’s side to follow. He sits in the middle of the bed, inspects Eddie’s cherry-frosted paws, then lightly swats the dog’s nose.

“Bad pup,” he tries to discipline, but he can’t even be that harsh on him. It was the humans who were stupid enough to imagine they could leave dozens upon dozens of baked goods in the kitchen, unwatched for hours, and expect them to all be as they were. 

Seconds later, there’s another whimper and groan and Max is walking out of the closet with Anastasia hanging from his jowls.

Jensen gasps, seeing Jared’s favorite little girl covered in lemon cream. “Oh, Ana, he’s gonna kill you.”

When he hears Jared’s footsteps nearing the bedroom, Jensen jumps ups to shoo Max and Anastasia back into the closet. He slams the door shut just before Jared’s sad eyes meet his. 

“I think I can salvage about two hundred,” Jared says with a pathetic flap of his arms.

“That’s good!” Jensen says energetically. 

“It’s not even half.”

Jensen pouts along with Jared then scowls at Ginger, mouth riddled with chocolate cake crumbles, trying to curl around Jared’s ankle. He quickly scoops her up, wipes her mouth, and tucks her into the crook of his arm to keep Jared from spying any other food on her. She’s Jared’s second favorite, and for all that Jensen side-eyes the precocious girl, he’s not about to let Jared see evidence of the whole debacle.

“You go salvage as many little cakes as you can,” Jensen insists, squeezing Jared’s shoulder. “And I’ll round up all the dogs in the bedroom to keep them out of your hair.” 

Jared mumbles _okay_ and slowly heads back to the kitchen to save whatever is possible. 

Jensen sighs as he looks down at Ginger, who paws at his chin then licks his nose. “You’re not helping,” he insists, but she doesn’t seem to care, licking at his jaw and neck.

Following an evening walk with the few pups who seemed clean of any bakery disasters, Jensen returns home to even worse shouting than he had woken to that morning. 

“And not only did you not provide the agreed-upon amount of cupcakes!” Some woman with a giant greying bouffant in a milky white fur coat and extravagant pearls is yelling at Jared, and Jared seems to be trying to get a word in, but she’s not letting him. “But you sent over an alarming amount that were riddled with disgusting little nuggets!”

“I am really sorry, Mrs. Ander-”

“Can you imagine the horror?!” she wails. “Having Priscilla Prince and Samantha Slade and Bethany Booth there to see that I can’t properly host a simple bridge tournament! Everyone around town will now be talking about how awful Agatha Anderson’s parties are, and how she goes to people who serve _dog food. I never!_.”

Jensen watches from the front door as Jared tries to respectfully argue, “It wasn’t dog food, Mrs. Anderson, it was-”

“It _was_ dog food, you idiot!” she shouts, furry strands at the cuffs of her coat flittering about. “My dogs ate them all right off the tables! It’s like there was a blinking sign proclaiming – dog food, _right here_.”

Just then, Jensen has a vision. It includes he and Jared in a very compromising position last night, but that’s not the important part. No, not at all. The important part is when Jensen had reached for the cupboards to hold on for dear life and he remembered knocking dog treats right into a few bowls of batter. Sadly, he also remembers briefly telling himself to clean out the batter – or dump the entire batch – and yet he had not done either of those things.

“Mrs. Anderson,” Jensen says then clears his throat when she grants him a nasty glare. “If you don’t mind …”

Ice blue eyes bore into Jensen’s soul, he thinks. That or he’s feeling a mad case of indigestion for other reasons. “I _do_ so mind. Now my reputation is tarnished and no one will want to attend any more of my parties. No one will come by for a casual tea! Who are you, anyway?”

“This is my partner, Jensen,” Jared replies, standing tall with more strength in his voice than Jensen has heard since the night before. “And you will not speak to him the same as you speak to me.”

Jensen is certain he can stand up for himself, but he’s touched all the same that Jared is attempting to honor him. “You shouldn’t speak to any of us like anything,” Jensen insists to scary woman, who he is now most certain has enjoyed months of her Doberman pinchers terrorizing their pups. “And it isn’t Jared’s fault.”

“No, Jensen, it is,” Jared insists.

“No, Jared, it’s mine,” Jensen admits with a sad look to Jared. “I knocked over the peanut butter truffle bones into the mix and forgot to make sure we cleaned them out. Of course the puppies got into them overnight and Mrs. Anderson’s dogs gobbled them up today. It’s all my fault.” Jensen turns to Mrs. Anderson and somehow she seems less menacing than before, yet just as judgmental. “So, please, don’t blame Jared. Blame me. I did it.”

There is complete silence and Jensen is completely unnerved by it. He’s unsure if it’s better than the shouting he’d walked into. 

Jared is still staring at him, though Jensen cannot return his gaze. Jensen’s eyes flit around the room and only barely meet Jared’s. He cannot bear to consider what has really happened here. He’s ruined Jared’s reputation, his customer relationships, and the bakery with one stupid forgotten moment.

Mrs. Anderson clears her throat and flaps the sides of her coat closed. “Well. You are quite admirable, yet also very stupid to have done such a thing.” She rolls her eyes from Jensen to Jared and clears her throat again. “I am so sorry for you to have been ruined like this. You were quite the baker, Mr. Jared.”

With that, she sweeps out of the room and likely forever from their lives.

Jensen releases a long breath and dares to finally look Jared square in the eye.

“Jensen,” he whispers.

Jensen frowns, casting his eyes away from Jared’s sad face. “I know, Jared. I know.”

“How could you do that?” Jared asks, coming closer.

“It’s just that … we were in the middle of the thing and I hit the stuff and then you know what … I’d forgotten all about them.”

“No, how could you tell her you did it? Jensen, this is my bakery. You can’t take that kind of heat for me. Let me fail on my own.”

Jensen meets Jared’s gaze with a mutual dose of miserableness. “I can’t let you fail on your own when it was my fault.”

“This is all very pathetic,” Jared says with a light laugh. “We’re arguing over whose fault it _isn’t_. Normally it’s the other way around.”

Jensen does not laugh. He holds onto Jared’s hands and squeezes with all the power he has. “I am so very, very, very, very sorry.”

“That’s a lot of sorry.” Jared leans forward and softly kisses Jensen, then bops their noses together. “It’s okay. I mean, it’s not good, but it is what it is. We’ll just figure out a way out of this mess.”

Just then, there’s a tiny squeak, and they both look to Anastasia, Eddie, and Ginger at threshold to the kitchen. The three pups are huddled together with guilty, drooped eyes. Anastasia steps forward and nudges a treat with her nose then nods at them. Jensen recognizes the corner of a peanut butter truffle dog bone and acknowledges her apology in the gesture.

He also sees a bit of light shining upon them all and he smiles at Jared with warmth. “I think we’ll be okay. So long as we stick together.”

  


**Epilogue**  


“One dozen Lemon Burst Bones, a dozen Cinnamon Scooby Snacks, and two dozen Otis Oatmeal Crackers!” Jared calls out with a grin. 

The man on the other side of the counter, Henry Hoffman, tips his pageboy cap and returns Jared’s eager smile. “Do you have any Peanut Butter Truffles left?”

“Just a dozen,” Jared replies with a quick look in the glass case. A few in the crowd groan, and he feels sorry for only half a second, because the bakery is packed to the walls and that means good business. And that’s after removing all the seating areas.

Mr. Hoffman’s smile twists into something more nervous. “Only a dozen?”

“I’ve got some in the oven, but it’ll be a bit of a spell ‘til they’re good to go.”

Other customers grumble their complaints and Jared feels the bright ding of an idea gleam. “To the few of you who came across town just for the PB Truffles, if you can hold out ‘til the batch is ready, I’ll get you one half-hour dog walk for free.”

Happy noises fill the area and Jared gladly nods to Mr. Hoffman as he hands over the entire order. “That’ll be seventy-six, seventy-two,” Jared says.

Mr. Hoffman doesn’t even flinch to pay so much for doggy treats; the stuffed cash register tells him that no one else really has either.

Jared realized months ago that pet owners will do most anything to spoil their family. Heck, he and Jensen do it on a regular basis now that the bakery is chugging along like a well-oiled machine, even if it’s just Jared and his assistant Sandy cooking up all the recipes with the pups serving as taste testers.

The _Doggone Good Bakery_ had been Jensen’s idea once they realized their own puppies couldn’t deny the great flavors of Jared’s concoctions. _Doggone Walking_ had been Jared’s. They both work and just barely share the same space … Dog owners come to the bakery for treats and stay to sign up for Jensen’s services, or pick up their dogs from walks and stay for the goods. Either way, Jared and Jensen are happily rolling in enough dough – both literal and monetary – to have moved from their tiny one-bedroom, 600-square-foot apartment into the sprawling loft above the bakery. 

Jared’s distracted from filling another order for Lemon Burst Bones and a few Bacon Barks by the bell dinging above the entryway. Jensen bustles in with a dozen leashes with yapping dogs at the ends of them, and customers turn around to aww and coo at them all.

Jensen meets Jared’s eyes across the way and he’s beaming, utterly shining with happiness echoing off of him in waves. 

“The man of the hour,” Jared exclaims. “Everyone’s favorite Doggone Walker!”

“Stop, Jared,” Jensen insists with a blush, working his way through the crowd to reach the doggy pens in the far corner. 

“He’s so doggone good, you know!”

“You really are,” a woman says and Jensen reels around to face Mrs. Anderson. She’s far from what they witnessed in their apartment, now wearing softer colors, fabrics, and makeup, with her hair pulled into a soft bun rather than the rigid, tight ponytail of back when. “Fluffy, here, has never behaved so well. Not until you got your hands on her leash.” 

Jensen sees one of Mrs. Anderson’s Dobermans sitting perfect and polite at her side, and smiles. “Fluffy’s become such a fine lady. We should all be proud.”

She pats Jensen’s cheek and calls over her shoulder, “Mr. Jared! Two dozen Peach Supreme Pupcakes and six dozen Caramel Crunchers!”

“Coming right up!” Jared calls back, smiling at anyone he lays eyes on.

Mrs. Anderson gestures to her other Doberman, sprawled on the floor behind her feet. “Sprinkles does so love her Crunchers.”

“They’re Crunch-tastic,” Jensen repeats from Jared’s fliers. 

The day carries on in the same kind of joyful melee – customers rushing in and out to excitably order dozens upon dozens of doggy treats, some pass their dogs off to Jensen for scheduled walks, others come in just to check out the city’s doggone best walker for themselves. Just like so many of their early days together, Jared ends his day breathless with nagging fatigue in his bones and Jensen is left with hours full of dogs it seems he cannot handle, thought he deftly does.

After they lock the front door, clean off the counters, and clear out the glass case to store the excess treats for another day with their pups, Jared and Jensen head upstairs to their loft. 

Half walls separate the space in two; one area is clean and decorated precisely as Jared and Jensen had always dreamt with a sprawling entertainment center and an even more decadent sectional couch to watch any of their thousand cable channels. The other side is clearly made for all twenty-two dogs as it’s completely littered with toys, half-eaten treats, and a dozen doggie beds. 

In the corner of the dog’s space rests a larger bed that’s more humane than a simple swatch of padded cloth. Perched within the billowy mattress is Max curled around his lovely Sasha, whose belly is swollen and hard. 

Again.

Jensen squats down and rubs her cheek, her ears, then over her side as Jared joins him to lavish their two big pups with attention. 

“Dr. Palicki stopped in this morning,” Jared says, eyes still on Max and where he’s scrubbing under the boy’s jaw.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”

Jared shrugs. “Because you had a full schedule. And I kinda wanted to tell you on our own.”

Jensen shifts towards Jared. “Tell me what?”

“She says Sasha’s last ultrasound shows at least fourteen.”

Swaying for a second, Jensen closes his eyes. Jared reaches out to hold him steady with a grip around both of Jensen’s biceps. “Wha – why – why didn’t she tell us when we were there?” 

Jared smirks. “Because she was afraid you’d pass out again.”

“I’m not gonna …” Then Jensen loses strength in his legs and full plops down to sit on the hardwood floor. “Another fourteen?”

With a nod, Jared adds, “At a minimum.”

Jensen blows out a breath and bites his lower lip. “What will we do?”

Jared shrugs again, but he’s feeling a bit hopeful when he suggests, “Expand the bakery?”

Looking around, Jensen makes a noise. “And our home.”

“Can’t be too big of a deal,” Jared jokes. They’ll need the room and business is doing nothing but growing for them.

“We’ve been through worse.”

Jared brushes his fingers over Jensen’s hair. “Someone once told me we’ll be okay if we stick together.”

Jensen leans into it and softly smiles. “Sounds like someone smart.”

“He’s real _doggone_ smart.”

Laughing, Jensen tackles Jared to the floor, covering his mouth in eager kisses while the pups – now nearly one year old – prance around them and gleefully bark.

And as Jared and Jensen playfully wrestle and kiss with contentment of finally making their lives their own, Sasha tips her head into Max’s head, and Max nuzzles her jaw with a smile. They couldn’t be prouder of their two boys.

****

The End

 


End file.
